


Brighton Rock

by Lynchy8



Series: Fun (and sad!) little drabbles [22]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Nostalgia, Piercings, Pining, Rekindled Relationship, Rule 63, Smut, bisexual R, fem!Jolras, fem!Taire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2071308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynchy8/pseuds/Lynchy8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s so good to know there’s still a little magic in the air</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Enjolras has been sent to Brighton for a conference when she bumps into her ex girlfriend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighton Rock

**Author's Note:**

> There are absolutely no trigger warnings for this piece. Which came as something of a surprise, let me tell you! 
> 
> Enjoy.

As she strode up the promenade towards the pier, negotiating her way between oblivious happy couples and bumbling tourists, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel out of place. It was a sensation she was used to; she never seemed to quite fit in anywhere. But it was especially true right now, with the clack of her heels against the pavement while everyone else moved in sandals and flip flops. Her pencil skirt restricted her movements and the shirt she wore clung to her back, even though she had been out on the street for less than ten minutes.

Ah, the great British summer! A small break in the otherwise never-ending rain, when the sun came out and baked everyone to death for about a week before disappearing for another year. Even here, on the coast, the air was still and heavy. Bodies lay upon the shingles in an effort to attain as much vitamin D as possible. There were even some brave souls in the shallow waters of the sea, their shouts and calls as they splashed each other filtering up the beach to where Enjolras walked purposefully away from the office.

Brighton was a beautiful city. Enjolras had been a few times before, having been dragged to a Pride event during her second year of university, as well as a few day trips prior to that. The underlying Victoriana of the place gave it a certain gravitas beyond the tourist amusements, the loud wailing of the pier and the tacky rainbow I LOVE BRIGHTON fridge magnets that could be bought on the front.

Right now she was here on business, the second of a three-day event. It was a big deal, her being trusted enough to represent Lamarque’s at this conference and Enjolras had jumped at the chance when it was offered to her. However, the reality of the conference had left her feeling irritated and impotent. As soon as the session had broken for lunch she had headed out of the door, mumbling about getting a sandwich and some fresh air. She just needed to be away from that sterile atmosphere.

Of course, that meant walking down the promenade in a tight skirt and high heels. Enjolras stuck out her jaw and marched on regardless, ignoring the pinch in her toes and the occasional smirk or leer of passers-by. 

The whole thing was beyond frustrating. She was one of only two women delegates and most of the others seemed to know each other from the golf circuit, fulfilling every kind of bad stereotype of white middle-aged, middle class corporate bores. It wasn’t as if any of them were horrible; that would have been easier, because then she could hate them in peace. No one had glanced her up and down or passed inappropriate comments. No one had asked her to make them a cup of tea. Eye contact had been good, handshakes had been sincere. But the fact remained that she felt aggrieved, and it was becoming increasingly obvious what the cause of that feeling was; she was annoyed at herself.

She was annoyed because she was holding herself back. One of her colleagues back at the office, on hearing that she had been selected to attend the conference, had passed a comment about how they only hoped Enjolras could keep her mouth shut for once; the last thing Lamarque’s needed was Enjolras “getting on her soapbox” and making a pariah out of their company. Admittedly, the person hadn’t realised Enjolras had been standing right behind them at the time, but that only made the words sting more.

She was pissed off because she knew she shouldn’t let comments like that bother her. Evidently her boss trusted her enough to send her down here, was paying for her to be here. They wouldn’t do that if Enjolras was such a liability. The doubt gnawed away at her nonetheless.

Lost in those angry thoughts, Enjolras had lost track of how far she had walked. Her feet had carried her down off the promenade onto the seafront, practically on the shingles. She paused for a moment, allowing the crowds to move around her, while she considered turning around and heading back. Just as she made up her mind, a loud voice suddenly broke through the air.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks!” 

Enjolras turned, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. “It is the east,” the voice continued and now Enjolras was scanning the crowd, eyes everywhere trying to pick out the owner of those sharp, loud words. “And Enjolras is the sun.”

Enjolras would know that voice anywhere. But it was impossible! It couldn’t be…

Grantaire was standing right behind her, a small smile twitching at her lips. Brown eyes, warm and rich like chocolate and oh, they hadn’t changed! Enjolras tried to remember how to breathe.

“Grantaire,” and thankfully her voice came out calm as usual, “how are you?”

The last Enjolras had heard from Joly, Grantaire was out in Goa somewhere. Or was it Ghana? Some place beginning with G. Some place where Enjolras wasn’t because, apparently, she just “couldn’t deal with Enjolras right now”.

Enjolras took a moment to notice the differences in her ex-girlfriend. Her stoop was the same, her shoulders rounded as though she was trying to take up as little room as possible. Currently her arms were folded protectively around her middle and she’d ducked her head slightly, peering up at Enjolras through those beautiful thick dark lashes that framed her eyes. Her olive skin was a few shades darker than Enjolras remembered, which would make sense as the girl had been travelling. Her wild and messy hair was still curled on top of her head in a bun, with a bit more length than the last time Enjolras had seen her.

Her lip was pierced; that was new. Grantaire worried it with her teeth before answering Enjolras’s greeting.

“Oh, you know. I’m good,” she drawled, uncurling one hand to wave it lazily in the air. Enjolras felt her face twitch into a smile. Grantaire had always talked with her hands. Her fingernails were still bitten to the quick. 

In the short silence that followed, Enjolras felt Grantaire’s eyes look her over, sweeping up and down over her ridiculous ensemble.

“Wow, you’re dressed to kill,” she commented, grinning broadly. “Who you trying to impress?” Before Enjolras could blush, Grantaire was reaching out towards her face. She tried not to flinch, but the quick, clever fingers instead looped round one of Enjolras’s curls.

“And what the fuck did you do to your hair, girl?”

Enjolras really did flush this time. For her Secret Santa last year she had been given red hair dye, a dig towards the apparently never-ending supply of blonde jokes. Out of sheer spite and stubbornness, she had used it and, much to her surprise, had loved the effect of seeing burnt red in the mirror instead of her usual blonde.

“Don’t you like it?” she muttered, somewhat petulantly, before a sweeping sensation of mortification settled into her gut because why should it matter what Grantaire thought? Enjolras tried not to remember how good R’s hands felt carding through her curls, how much she loved having her hair tugged during sex, how much she missed soft lips pressed to her hairline.

Grantaire grinned.

“Yeah, it matches your temper!” she quipped, shrugging her shoulders.

Enjolras exhaled. They could do this. They were just old friends who had bumped into each other. They could have a normal conversation without turning it into a diplomatic episode. Enjolras had been dreading this moment for five years, but now that the worst had happened it wasn’t actually too bad.

“So, erm, when did you get back?” Enjolras tried to find a neutral topic of conversation. She knew she should probably be heading back to the conference soon, that their lunch break would soon be over, but she wasn’t quite ready to walk away just yet.

Grantaire shrugged and the gesture was so familiar it was almost disorientating. Grantaire was the only girl Enjolras knew who could make a shake of the shoulders mean just about anything.

“I landed here about two years ago. Came for a Pride event and never really left.”

That was Grantaire all over, of course. Just ambling her way through life. Seemed to have worked out well, though. There was a healthy glow about her skin and her smile reached right up to her eyes in a way it hadn’t towards the end of their relationship.

“What about you, all dolled up. Power-dressing your way to world domination yet?” It was supposed to be light-hearted and the breath in Enjolras’s chest caught as Grantaire knocked their shoulders together in a friendly gesture. She tried to force her brain to snap out of it, to focus on their conversation.

“I’m down here for a conference. Which,” Enjolras almost swore when she glanced at her watch and looked at the time. 

“You need to get back to?” Oh, and now Grantaire was giving her that sad smile which Enjolras wished she didn't know so well. Enjolras nodded stiffly.

“It was lovely to see you again,” the words tasted foul in Enjolras’s mouth. It wasn’t that they were untrue, exactly, it was the regret of it having been so long and the reunion so short. Then she gasped because Grantaire was suddenly hugging her, dusky brown arms snaking round her neck and warm skin pressed against her. She closed her eyes; Grantaire’s scent was the same.

“Go knock ‘em dead,” she grinned, pulling back. “Give them some of that Enjolras Needs You To Shut The Fuck Up sass we know and love so well.”

They didn’t say goodbye. They’d never said goodbye before, even the last time they’d seen each other, when it had been pretty damn clear they were unlikely to meet again anytime soon. Enjolras set off back up towards the promenade. After a few steps she turned.

“R!” she called out. The girl stopped, turning around. “Are you busy tonight?”

+

Enjolras was not even pretending to listen to the afternoon session. Her mind was still back on the beach, on curly brown hair and clever hands whose touch knew her extremely well.

Grantaire had been her first. She had transferred to Enjolras’s school when she was fifteen, half way through Year Ten, and when Enjolras had met her she’d had braces and wore big old-guy glasses just to piss people off. On the last day of term she’d tie-dyed her school shirt and when ordered to change had stripped off in the middle of the classroom. She smoked roll ups and carried a bottle whose clear liquid contents didn’t quite slosh like water. Her favourite word had started with F and she had this way of smirking at you that made you feel dirty. Enjolras hadn’t known what to make of her. 

Somehow their paths had crossed; Grantaire had been best friends with Joly who was science partners with Combeferre and so inevitably they had ended up at the same gathering of friends. It hadn’t exactly been a glowing start; Enjolras had opened up the door to the cupboard under the stairs in order to retrieve her coat and had found Grantaire with her tongue down some poor boy’s throat.

Enjolras remembered how, even in the shock of stumbling on such an intimate scene, she couldn’t help but stare at the lines of Grantaire’s throat, at the curve of her shoulders and the gentle shape of her chest.

“This your room, Harry Potter?”

Grantaire’s voice had sounded wrecked and her brown eyes were glinting in the dim light of the cupboard. Enjolras had stammered a negative, shaking her head.

“Then fuck off, we’re busy.”

Enjolras had glared at Grantaire once the girl emerged. She definitely wasn’t looking at her kiss-red lips or her perfectly messy hair or the rip in her tights that trailed all the way up the back of her thigh, disappearing under her black denim shorts.

“What’s up with you?” Courfeyrac had elbowed her, trying to raise a smile. “You look like someone cancelled Question Time.” Enjolras hadn’t been able to answer.

Only later, once she’d gotten over herself, did she get to know Grantaire properly. She found out how a lot of what came tumbling out of Grantaire’s mouth, carefully shrouded in expletives, was a front. She was a good person, loyal to a fault. Perhaps she wasn’t the most reliable human on the planet and she definitely had some issues, but then most people did.

The first time they kissed, Enjolras knew that none of that mattered. Because Grantaire would always be perfect in her eyes.

They had been seventeen when they had finally gotten together and Enjolras had been very much in love. The future had been shaping up to be a beautiful thing. She had good friends and a supportive family. She looked forward to getting school out of the way so that she could go off to university, where she was going to have so many good experiences and be in an excellent position to really effect change. 

More than all of that, she had Grantaire. Her girlfriend had a special way of bringing out the best and the worst in her. She pulled Enjolras out of the middle and dragged her to the extremes. She had never laughed or cried as hard as she had when she was with Grantaire. 

They were good together. They were good for each other. They were happy.

They were loud and angry and the sex was amazing, be it gentle, angry, hard or desperate. Grantaire had this way of looking at Enjolras like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, while Enjolras always felt like she could never say enough. For a whole blissful year they were the best they could possibly be.

The cracks had started to show just at the start of the summer before they were due to go to University. At first, Enjolras had put it down to the stress of exams. The next few months would be vitally important to the rest of her life. She spent a lot of time locked away in her room studying. 

Grantaire appeared to be doing anything but studying. She always seemed to be calling with some sort of distraction; some suggestion of a party they should go to, or a gathering of friends, or even just a road trip. Let’s go out, let’s meet up, let’s get the train to the coast. Enjolras had snapped, lost her temper more than once.

“These are important to me, R! I need to pass these exams for the good of my future!” she had snarled.

“Qualifications don’t mean shit, E!” Grantaire had retorted; Enjolras could just picture the way she gesticulated wildly with her arms. “No one is asking for your grade in Classical Civilisations while they’re fucking you over.”

No one had believed Enjolras when she’d said R had finished with her. Everyone assumed it must have been her doing the dumping. It had been an unfair assumption, because while she was mourning the death of her relationship, she also had to put up with a few furious glances and the occasional rude comment. Even when R set the record straight, that she had broken up with Enjolras, people still commented that Enjolras must have done something to upset Grantaire to the point of ending their relationship. Everyone knew how much R adored Enjolras, worshiping the ground she walked on. 

It had been a very lonely time and Enjolras had been extremely grateful for Combeferre and Courfeyrac standing by her. The boys had been wonderful and she had told them so after getting very drunk the night after her last exam. She should have been celebrating with her girlfriend; instead she was eating ice cream straight from the tub and crying into Combeferre’s cardigan.

“Hey,” Courf had said gently, stroking her hair. “What are gay best friends for?” 

On results day, Enjolras took the trouble of checking the board for R’s score. Of course she’d achieved all A’s. It tasted rather bitter in Enjolras’s mouth, especially as she had only scraped a C in Geography.

Grantaire was so damn smart she could have had a pick of universities. Instead she went off travelling with Joly. Six months later when Joly returned, he was alone. 

+

Enjolras was brought back to the room by a snicker of laughter. She blinked as the woman next to her coughed pointedly.

“I’m sorry if we’re interrupting you,” the speaker at the front commented dryly. Enjolras felt her face flush. “But if I could ask you to deliver your presentation I’m sure we won’t disturb you for any longer than is necessary.”

 _Right_ , Enjolras thought. The reason she was here in the first place. The presentation on offices being safe spaces, as well as discussing representation and equality in the workplace. She stood up, moving smoothly across the room before realising that she had kicked her shoes off under the desk and was currently standing in front of a room full of executives in bare feet. She stuck her chin out and fixed them all with a beady eye.

What had R said? _Give them some of that Enjolras Needs You To Shut The Fuck Up sass_. She glanced down at her notes which she had spent weeks carefully putting together. It wasn’t her usual style; she had deliberately courted a more softly-softly approach, trying to remember that she was here to build bridges and network, not isolate. But then she thought of her boss, how she had been chosen over all her colleagues. She thought of Grantaire and promptly dropped her notes on the desk.

“So,” she started, gazing round the room. “I think we can all agree that the majority of people in this room are card-carrying members of the white-male-privilege society.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but grin as the woman she had been sitting next to snorted into her coffee.

+

Sitting on a bench half way up the pier, Enjolras let her head tip back and her eyes fall closed as the evening sun bathed her in warm sunlight. She had swapped the skirt and heels for a pair of three-quarter length jeans and a red top that flattered her slim waist. Her red hair fluttered in the slight breeze and she allowed herself to get lost in the overwhelming sounds of the people around her. Kids raced each other over the groaning boards, the arcade games beeped loudly and always the murmur of people walking and talking.

“Hey,”

Enjolras opened her eyes, looking up into a familiar silhouette.

“Hey, yourself,” she grinned, as Grantaire flopped down on the bench beside her.

“How’d it go?” Grantaire was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt with the sleeves removed and a pair of black combat shorts that went down to her knees. Her legs were bare, revealing the intricate tattoo trailing up from her foot and round her calf. Enjolras forced herself to look up, letting her face pull up into an open smile. For the first time in a long time she felt relaxed.

“Good. At least, I don’t think I’m fired.”

Grantaire barked a laugh, her whole body shaking as she rocked forward and Enjolras chuckled as well, feeling warmth blossom in her chest.

“Hey, your glint is back!” Grantaire exclaimed. Enjolras blinked at her in surprise.

“My what?” she stuttered, feeling slightly confused. If she wasn’t mistaken, Grantaire’s cheeks were flushing with colour.

“You, erm, your eyes,” she mumbled, hands waving vaguely in the air. “They did - they do - this thing. They glint, you know, when you’re angry or happy or whatever,” the last word was punctuated with another wave of her hand. “It was missing when I saw you earlier, but it's back now.”

Enjolras smiled softly, looking down at her feet. She let the silence sit comfortably for a moment.

“So, someone said something about dinner?” Grantaire encouraged, tone bracing. 

They found themselves wondering around the lanes looking for a suitable place to eat. Grantaire was doing most of the talking and Enjolras was more than happy to listen, to a rich, gravelly voice painting pictures in the hot summer evening of the places she’d travelled to.

She’d spent six months in New Zealand, another three in Vietnam before crossing into Cambodia, Thailand, a brief stint in Laos. She’d managed to get by with bar jobs, earning enough for her next ticket. She’d spent three weeks in Zambia after meeting someone who just wanted company to visit Victoria Falls, and then had spent Christmas in Egypt with a guy who said he was the third son of some sheik which she highly doubted, but it had been fun while it lasted.

From there she had crossed into Israel, crashing a coach party and ending up in Jerusalem. Joly had wired her enough money to get out after the political situation had deteriorated enough that even Grantaire had begun to worry. She hadn’t come straight home, instead detouring through Europe, travelling up through Italy, into Germany and across France.

“Wow,” was all that Enjolras could come up with. “That’s incredible.”

Grantaire smiled shyly. They had settled for a little brasserie set off the Lanes. A waiter had brought them drinks, a carafe of red wine for R, while Enjolras sipped at a lime and soda. She took the opportunity to really look at Grantaire up close. 

The braces were long gone, of course, but her teeth were still slightly crooked where she hadn’t bothered to wear her retainer after the train tracks had come off. Her nose had always been a little off-centre after having broken it as a child. She had a dimple in one cheek but not the other. All these familiar things stirred an old longing in Enjolras’s chest. It was intoxicating to be in her presence once more. As Enjolras looked her over, Grantaire ran her tongue over her lower lip before teasing at the lip piercing.

“You’re certainly having a good look, there, E,” she said quietly, voice low. “See anything you like?”

Enjolras rolled her eyes, sitting back and taking another sip from her glass. The moment passed.

“What about you?” Grantaire took a gulp from her wine glass without taking her eyes of Enjolras. “Made an honest man of Combeferre yet?”

Enjolras coughed, pursing her lips as she frowned. Surely Grantaire knew enough that Combeferre was gay. More than that, he was Enjolras’s best friend and had been with Enjolras’s other best friend since school. Grantaire took one look at Enjolras’s stormy face before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, E, I’m kidding! Fuck me, your glare hasn’t changed one bit, though!” Enjolras relaxed a little, allowing a small smile, a direct result of Grantaire’s infectious laughter.

“He’s still with Courfeyrac,” she replied, voice smooth. Grantaire’s expression evolved into the most beautiful, soft and open smile which made Enjolras’s breath catch.

“Good,” she said at last, nodding her head. “That’s really good.”

+

Enjolras had insisted on paying, even though Grantaire had said that she had a job and could pay her way, and that she hadn’t spent three hours talking about her penniless adventures across the world just to get a free meal. Enjolras had told her to shut up for once and just let her pay. Grantaire had sat back in her chair, arms folded and looking completely unimpressed while muttering that some things never changed.

Now they were walking side by side along the front. The sun had set and the air was cool, a soft breeze coming up from the sea. 

_Do you know how much I’ve missed you?_

“It’s so peaceful at this time of day,” Enjolras broke the silence. R hummed in response and it took everything Enjolras had not to join their hands. 

_I wish I’d fought harder for you_

“Doesn’t the pier look pretty all lit up, and the lights reflected in the water!”

_I wish I’d never let you go_

“I missed you”

Shit! That one had come out loud, both women stumbling to a stop as Enjolras felt the world sink away beneath her feet. She tried to turn, to walk away from her big mouth and the ruins of the nice evening they’d been having.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire caught her arm, the firm grasp preventing her from leaving and Enjolras felt her heart stutter in her chest. Then warm lips were pressed against hers and she could taste the oaky red wine and the vague bitterness of cigarettes as Grantaire kissed her. She felt her hands close around Grantaire’s wrists, holding her firmly so she could kiss back because she had missed this; she had missed this so much.

Eventually she drew back for breath, resting their foreheads together, not yet daring to open her eyes. She heard Grantaire chuckle softly against her cheek.

“Missed you, too, babe.”

+

The hotel that Enjolras was staying in was right on the sea front. It was a beautiful building with an impressive lobby, fine chandeliers and a grand staircase swirling up through the centre of the building. Both Enjolras and Grantaire were oblivious to all of this as they walked quickly inside, Enjolras nodding at the concierge as she led Grantaire firmly by the hand towards the lifts. They waited patiently for the lift to arrive, standing in silence. The doors had barely slid closed before Enjolras was pushing R up against the mirrored wall of the lift, seeking warmth and skin and everything she had been missing in her life.

They stumbled down the corridor, not caring if anyone saw or not. It took Enjolras three attempts to get her door open, mostly because Grantaire already had her hand up Enjolras’s shirt and had pinged the clasp on her bra.

They weren’t looking at the fine décor of the room, nor did they pause to admire the well-made bed. Grantaire pushed Enjolras down, sending cushions scattering in all directions. She pulled insistently at Enjolras’s top whilst sucking on her lower lip, making Enjolras groan loudly.

“Want your skin, babe,” Grantaire murmured. Enjolras smirked, shuffling backwards, inviting the girl above her to follow. Grantaire climbed up onto the bed, bracketing Enjolras’s hips.

“You’re still fucking gorgeous, babe,” Grantaire continued, kissing down Enjolras’s neck while she shucked her shirt up to her shoulders, pulling Enjolras forward so she could pull it up over the girl’s head. “Most gorgeous girl I ever had.”

R ran her fingers down Enjolras’s chest, ghosting over her breasts, tracing round the soft mound before teasing a nipple between her finger and thumb. She bent her head and Enjolras groaned at the sensation of R’s tongue licking round her belly button before trailing up her belly, between her breasts and to the base of her throat.

“R,” she groaned, letting her eyes slip shut.

She had forgotten how magic Grantaire was with her hands. Clothes were scattered and then it was just them, R poised above her, looking down at her and it was that same look of wonder and disbelief.

“I want you, E,” she whispered, almost like a confession. Enjolras looked up at her, feeling a warm tug in her belly. She wanted R right back.

Five minutes later she had forgotten all about R’s hands. Enjolras lay on her back, her arms up above her head, fisted in the pillows as the brunette between her legs fucked into her with her tongue. Holy fuck, it had never been like this before. That mouth! Enjolras had been groaning unashamedly loudly and it only seemed to spur R on. She wriggled and squirmed but R held her fast, head bobbing up and down as she licked Enjolras out.

“Fuck me, R, your mouth!” she groaned, eyes screwed shut tight. She felt R shift and a hand squeezed her thigh. Then the girl shifted to suckle Enjolras’s clit, getting a shout of surprise and pleasure for her efforts.

They ended up rolling over, shifting round so they could sixty-nine in comfort. It was then that Enjolras discovered another piercing that hadn’t been there the last time she and R had slept together. Tentatively, Enjolras flicked her tongue across the little ring, enjoying the resulting shudder. Somewhat encouraged, she sucked on it ever so gently and was rewarded when Grantaire cried out her name. 

“You’re a fucking tease, E!” she exclaimed, biting into the meat of Enjolras’s thigh before returning her attention to Enjolras’s slit.

It had been a long time since Enjolras had been with anyone and her entire body was vibrating, humming with pleasure as she headed towards stimulation overload. Sensing Enjolras’s first orgasm was close, R combined the efforts of her fingers and tongue, working Enjolras deftly until she was shuddering and shouting, calling out Grantaire’s name like it was the only word she knew. 

When R shuffled round, scooting up the bed so she could pull Enjolras on top of her, Enjolras could taste herself on R’s lips. She groaned into the kiss, hands wandering low, brushing her thumbs over R’s hips and down between her thighs, two fingers ghosting at her labia, careful to tease at the ring just enough to have R squirming in her arms.

R thrust down impatiently on Enjolras’s fingers, drawing them inside her. She was warm and wet and groaning loudly as she snapped her hips, seeking more. Enjolras was only too happy to oblige. Rough hands clamped over Enjolras’s shoulders as Grantaire thrust down hard.

“Fuck me, E, please, just fucking… like that… oh fuck, oh fuck me, fuck!” Enjolras couldn’t help but grin at the continuous repetition of Grantaire’s favourite word as she crooked her fingers just right, using her thumb to rub insistently at the little bump below the piercing while her fingers continued to thrust inside. 

But when Grantaire finally came, shuddering round Enjolras’s fingers and arching off the bed, it was with Enjolras’s name on her lips.

They kissed lazily before going again, rolling around in the sheets, getting to know each other once more, trying old tricks to see if they still worked as well as experimenting with new moves to see how well they played out. Enjolras occasionally paused to reflect how perfectly R still fitted in her arms, between her legs, around her waist. They slotted together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Enjolras didn’t want the night to end.

+

When Enjolras woke she was alone. She was curled up on her side, the sheets gathered at her waist. At some point in the night she had pulled on her panties but otherwise she was naked. She reached out with her hand to the space in the bed beside her; the sheets were still warm.

She could still feel R’s breath warm on her neck, the echoes of fingers, teeth and tongue all over her body. She tried to remember if, at some point during all the sex, she had taken the time to tell R just how she felt about her.

A strange hollow ache settled into her chest. Yesterday had been so amazing. She hadn’t felt that happy in years. But it had always been like that with Grantaire; every emotion was felt in full Technicolor, no matter how good or bad. 

It had been good for her soul. She felt more like her old self and for that she could only be grateful, even if she only had R back in her bed for one night. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that she’d lost sight of herself over the past couple of years. What was it that Grantaire had said? Her glint was back. Well, she would carry that with her from now on. 

She sat up, running a hand through her hair. The red was nice, but maybe it was time to get it stripped out. Go back to blonde, even if it meant a return to the blonde jokes.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Grantaire emerged with terrible bedhead.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Enjolras stared up at her stupidly.

“Well, shove up then, stop taking up all the bed!” R knocked Enjolras out of the way with her hip, shuffling down the bed before dropping her head back on the pillow and draping her arm about Enjolras’s waist. Enjolras grinned, curling up against the girl in her bed, kissing her forehead before drifting back to sleep for another snooze.

**Author's Note:**

> First things are first; thanks to Sarah for being my beta. Also, R's comment about Enjolras's dyed red hair matching her temper is entirely hers.
> 
> It came about because there's this girl I see on my way to work and she *is* Enjolras and it was her I had in mind when I wrote this piece. She rides a 1950's red bicycle and usually has brown shoulder-length curly hair but then she dyed it red. She's very french and wears a tailored red twee jacket and sometimes a waistcoat and.... yes. She is Enjolras.
> 
> The title of this oneshot comes from the Queen song (as does the quote in the summary). I've been spending a lot of time in Brighton on business trips recently which is how this fic came about.


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